Waver Velvet's Guide to Being an Insignificant Extra
by Glaceon Mage
Summary: Harry and his friends were not the only ones whose lives were altered by the Dark Lord's return. Many others were, including a intelligent young muggle-born named Waver Velvet. HIATUS UNTIL I CHEER UP MY BETA
1. Prologue I

**Er, Yo! It's been ages since I actually posted anything on this site. **

**...Over two years. Wow. **

**I'll put more extensive author's notes at the end, but for now, two things.**

**First, thanks to Silverly on Serenes Forest for proofreading. It was an insanely random request when I made it, so I am very grateful.**

**Second, I own nothing, obviously. Neither Harry Potter nor Fate.**

**EDIT UPDATE: DO NOT LEAVE ANONYMOUS REVIEWS. I will delete them. I want to know who is reviewing, name, profile, the like. Guest reviews are faceless. They feel impersonal. And if someone is going to give advice or constructive criticism, being impersonal is the last thing I want. So don't do it. **

**Also don't feel bad if I don't PM you in reply, as I personally prefer to answer reviews publicly in the next chapter AN. Because I often read reviews of others' stories, and go "yeah I thought that too" but find it awkward to re-bring up something already brought up just to see the response since the author PM's review replies. So this way, if someone else has the same idea you do, you both see the reply.**

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**Prologue - 6 years ago **

_Prologue I_

July 15, 1986

Minerva McGonagall didn't mind the odd looks she received as she strode down the dingy street somewhere in the English countryside. Her clothing was, to most eyes, oddly out of place for the area, looking vastly more elaborate in comparison to the typical working class residents of the place. It was late in the evening, so streets were practically bare and residents had returned to their homes, further causing the woman to stand out.

McGonagall rounded on the tiny one-story house the letter in her hands was addressed to, wondering how she would explain to the clueless residents of one of the place the cause of the strange occurrences they had likely been witness to in the past eleven years. Truthfully, McGonagall disagreed with the practice of waiting until this point to explain reality to these families, like the one whose door she was currently standing outside. It was a lot to take in; many of her students in the past who were in similar situations admitted to being overwhelmed.

McGonagall reached over to ring the doorbell, standing back after it was pressed. A woman with straight dark hair slowly opened the door, looking over McGonagall's out of place appearance with skepticism.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. "And what do you want?"

"Good day, Miss Velvet, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall." McGonagall answered. "May I come in, please? I have a large amount of material to explain to you and your son."

"To Waver? What on earth would you have to explain to him?" the woman responded incredulously.

"If you could please relax, Miss Velvet, I will explain when all of us are in the room." The woman continued to regard McGonagall with skepticism, but allowed her into the living room of the house.

The woman indicated one of the sofas. "Sit down, I'll go and fetch Waver." McGonagall sat while the woman headed down the hall to retrieve her son. The room was as unremarkable as the street outside. There were some decorations, but the walls were largely bare. The sofas creaked a little, but they were surprisingly new.

Down the hall, the woman who had answered the door could be heard arguing with her son. McGonagall heard the whole conversation on the boy's dislike of having his reading interrupted, and the tones of the two's voices indicated this wasn't an uncommon argument. It didn't take long before the woman had successfully gotten her son out of the room he had been studying in and trailing behind her as they returned to the living room.

McGonagall had truthfully expected more resistance than this. In the past, there was resistance, no small amount of suspicion, and confusion. She was a complete stranger to these people, like the ones she'd visited in the past, had walked up to their door and claimed she had something important to tell them. McGonagall supposed the woman hadn't resisted due to McGonagall's apparently larger amount of wealth causing her to assume they didn't have anything else McGonagall would want.

The boy looked a bit like his mother: straight, black hair, pale as a ghost, green-grey eyes, small stature and angular features. His face was set in an annoyed-looking scowl as he sat on the sofa across from McGonagall alongside his mother. He sat straight, carrying himself with an air of haughty superiority that rarely matched in other boys or girls his age that McGonagall saw, especially in areas like this one.

He spoke very quickly after taking a seat. "We're here now. Since you evidently already know exactly who we are, somehow, I believe we deserve an explanation to exactly who you are." The way he spoke was slightly different than how he spoke when arguing with his mother previously, currently making more of an effort to hide the lower class accent of his English. For someone who seemed to lock himself in a room to study more than anything, he did a surprisingly decent job of it, though that wasn't saying very much. McGonagall noted his hostile tone and rude lack of proper self-introduction. His thoughts on his current situation were clear to her: Why did you show up out of nowhere to interrupt me?

Regardless of his lack of politeness, McGonagall had to keep hers. "Good day, Mr. Velvet. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I apologize for interrupting your reading. However, I firmly believe you would like to hear what I have to say." She pulled an old-looking letter from her robe and handed it to the boy. He glanced at the address, before turning it over and peeling off the seal to read it. His eyes steadily grew wider as he glanced over the contents, repeatedly looking up at McGonagall in apparent amazement.

Once he was finished, he turned to his mother and handed her the letter. "See, mother? I was right! There was absolutely no other explanation for that stuff." His voice was incredibly smug. "'You just didn't look hard enough,' you said. Well, now we have proof that the laws of physics definitely weren't in order!"

Well, if he accepted it so quickly, that certainly made things easier. McGonagall suspected his mother wasn't quite as open to the ridiculous idea the letter had proposed: magic was real, and her son was capable of it. Her suspicions were quickly confirmed when the woman looked up at her with a glare.

"What is the meaning of this?" She demanded. "You honestly expect me to believe this? It's absurd. And even if it was real, how could Waver possibly be a source of any of it?"

"If what he said to you a moment ago is any indication, Mr. Velvet himself was already somewhat aware of his own ability." McGonagall was admittedly somewhat impressed by this. It wasn't often that muggle-born children realized they were the direct source of the odd occurrences around them. Often, when they did, it was because they had managed to control it to some degree. "My presence here is merely corroborating what he attempted to tell you previously. However, if you require more proof, I can provide a demonstration."

Waver, not his mother, was the one to respond. "Please do," he said, the smug satisfaction of being proven correct still evident in his voice while his eyes showed nothing less than complete curiosity. McGonagall noted the sudden lack of rudeness in what he actually said before she complied.

"Very well," she stated. A moment later, Minerva McGonagall as she had initially appeared before Waver Velvet and his mother no longer sat before them. In her place sat a silver tabby cat, with distinct marks around its eyes. It blinked a few times, before quickly returning to its former form of the Professor. She turned to Waver's mother. "I assume that was satisfactory?"

The woman was silent. McGonagall could only imagine the failing alternative explanations for what she had just seen running through her head. She turned back to Waver. "I assume your enthusiastic reaction is an indication that you will accept the school's offer?"

"We wouldn't be able to afford it." The response was Waver's mother's.

"That is not a problem. The school has assistance available for such families." McGonagall replied. "Mr. Velvet, please answer."

"Yes, I will accept." It was obvious he was trying to hide his enthusiasm. The haughtiness that had lapsed after reading his letter was starting to creep back into his voice.

McGonagall nodded. "Very well. I will be back tomorrow to help you buy your schoolbooks. Do not tell anyone of this encounter, or about magic either, in case I do not see you," she pointed at Waver's mother, "again at the time." Before Waver or his mother could say anything else, McGonagall had disappeared from their living room with a pop.

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**So yeah, time for those extensive AN's I mentioned. I'll try not to be so wordy with them in the future.**

**The whole idea that spawned this was essentially "What if Waver was in a world where the magic system makes him competent?" combined with rereading Harry Potter. So that became "What if, offscreen, there was a person in the Harry Potter universe with similar background and personality to Waver?" After all, there's a lot of people hanging out outside Harry's life while the books focus solely on him. So we get this... sidestory? Of an individual who, despite not personally knowing Harry at all, still had his life altered by the events of the series.**

**This story doesn't really require knowledge of Fate to understand and read. I'd recommend watching or reading Fate/Zero if you haven't, obviously. It's a great story. But this is ultimately going to be more about the Harry Potter side of things, lorewise. Actually, I intend to keep this as canon compliant to the Harry Potter side as I can. Everything that happens in the Harry Potter books still happens, just offscreen. Harry is still the Boy-Who-Lived. Etc.**

**Regarding the date, I actually went and derived Waver's school year from his age in Fate/Zero. TL;DR: Waver's DoB is October 3, 1974. Do what you will with that information.**

**Other thing: I am not British, hence, I do not know a lot about different kinds of UK accents or how to write them into text. Translations of Fate itself are spectacularly unhelpful in showing how Waver's accent sounds (probably because you can't really write an English accent of a person speaking in English all story into Japanese text), he's voiced by an American actor (Lucien Dodge) and the only way one would realize he's supposed to have an accent at all is a throwaway line of dialogue from Keyneth in the Zero event in Fate/Grand Order. So uh, sorry about that. If anyone has any advice on that, you're welcome to share, because I definitely know I need it.**

**One last thing: update schedule. I am incredibly bad at finishing long stories. And the way the planning for this story currently looks, this is going to be a long story. I'll try to update often (hopefully, every Saturday). Really. I have a few chapters after this already complete, and will likely upload them fairly soon. **

**-Glace **


	2. Prologue II

**1\. As usual, thanks to Silverly for proofreading.**

**2\. This was in the edit to the AN to the last chapter, but I'll repeat it for good measure: PLEASE LOG IN TO REVIEW. I do not accept guest reviews, and will delete them. The ONLY exception is if it's a guest who I know who it is and the user in question confirms it (I have left guest reviews to re-review chapters of a story under rewrite while making it clear who I was). This is stated in my profile and has been stated in my profile for a few years. **

**I will respond to the one posted for the last chapter before I added that to the AN in the end chapter notes, since I initially didn't mention this in the last chapter's author's notes and that's my fault, but for future reference, if you have something to say, I want to know who's saying it. Put a name to the person giving advice/criticism/etc., look at their profile to get an idea about them, that stuff. Preemptive thank you for cooperating with this request in the future, as I will not make exceptions again.**

**3\. I own nothing.**

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_Prologue II_

July 16, 1986

It was early morning when McGonagall returned to the house the next day. Waver's mother had seemingly already left for work, leaving Waver to wait by the door on his own, back straight and expression carefully kept neutral.

"Are you ready to go, Mr. Velvet?" she asked.

"Yes, Professor." The answer didn't need to be said, as the child evidently was unskilled at hiding his emotions. Nodding, McGonagall led him out of the old building. The route she led him down was winding, and not long after the two had started walking Waver had already began to beg for a break.

"I do not believe I have ever met a child so physically incapable of walking this far." McGonagall commented. Waver simply scowled and refused to make eye contact as he sat on the log in the nearby forest she had led him into. "Just how often do you exercise? Being this frail cannot be easily achieved."

Waver simply continued glaring at anything and everything that wasn't McGonagall and scoffed. "It's unimportant. It'll only take time I could use for studying or detective novels, and neither of those require physical capability to do."

"That sort of mindset will not serve you well in the future, I hope you understand." McGonagall scolded sternly. "How do you expect to navigate a castle if you cannot manage to walk a few blocks?"

"I said that it's unimportant!" Waver seethed, standing up again. "I don't know what you're going on about, 'it won't serve me well.' Knowledge, that's what's important in life. Nothing else matters. Let's go." His back was turned as he said this.

McGonagall didn't move. "Mr. Velvet, please come back here." Waver stopped and turned around, still with the same sour expression on his face. "It is evident you do not take criticism well. However, behavior such as this will get you in trouble once you get to Hogwarts. I would advise you to stop, and this will be your only and final warning." The reasons for his haughtiness the night before were readily becoming apparent. Waver, as far as McGonagall could tell, was academically gifted and he himself knew it. At the same time, knowing this gave him a feeling of superiority, and anything that went against that narrative of self-importance would be fervently denied. Discovering magic the day before would likely have encouraged that narrative, now that McGonagall thought about it.

Waver stood in silence for a minute, seemingly debating mentally with himself to attempt to calm down. "Yeah, whatever," he said, finally. Waver had apparently decided on the approach of pretending the conversation didn't happen.

McGonagall continued to lead Waver through the forest, frequently stopping whenever he ran out of breath. By the time they reached the dirty old boot that marked their destination, they had to stop about fifteen times.

"This is the place?" Waver asked incredulously when McGonagall pointed it out to him. "I thought we were buying textbooks! We're in the middle of the woods!"

"We are," McGonagall responded. "To reach the stores where we can buy your textbooks and other supplies, we need to get to London first. The Department of Magical Transportation has graciously provided us with this," she picked up the boot, "portkey." She turned to him. "Please grasp the boot, Mr. Velvet, it'll deploy fairly soon."

Waver looked quite plainly that he had no desire to lay a hand on something so filthy. His reluctance was evident in both his face and the slowness with which he reached out. The two stood there, holding the boot and looking rather ridiculous, when a rush of wind erupted around them. McGonagall was used to the sensation, but Waver clearly was taken by surprise by the sudden large amount of spinning.

Waver was promptly greeted with a chattering crowd of people upon returning to the ground, though he didn't seem to bat an eye at it as he was too busy trying to regain his bearings. It seemingly didn't take him long to realize they were in a crowded street, glowing and bright in its buzz of activity.

"This is Diagon Alley." McGonagall stated. "We will be able to purchase your supplies here. That portkey will be used once more, for you to return home this evening."

"About the supplies," Waver looked slightly uncomfortable. "You told my mother yesterday that costs would be covered somehow, would you mind explaining? We don't have a lot, and there's a lot of required supplies listed."

"The school has a fund for students in financial situations such as yours to cover the cost of your supplies. I have the money with me. We will be buying most things secondhand, but it should be suitable." McGonagall answered simply.

"Oh," Waver still didn't look entirely comfortable with the explanation, as much as he tried to hide it. McGonagall supposed the boy did not like the idea of needing assistance. Waver glanced at the boot in his hands. "How did it do that? There has to be a mechanism, magical or not. How was this teleportation device first created?"

"That's a bit above your current level," McGonagall answered. "I'll be able to explain it in a few years, once you have a better grasp of the basics." Waver flinched at the statement, but otherwise said nothing.

McGonagall led him from shop to shop, purchasing the requisite materials as they went. Waver didn't seem terribly interested in most of the more mundane purchases like cauldrons and robes, the latter in particular he seemed rather eager to escape from once he had been fitted. He had refused to explain why he was so upset after, his defensive attitude similar to when McGonagall had inquired about his physical health earlier that day. The attitude carried the same underlying message: "Do not humiliate me." McGonagall decided that for his own sake, it may be a good idea to probe him a bit to discover what might have bothered him so, and potentially calm him down before it got worse.

"Did someone try to humiliate you in Madam Malkin's?" She asked. "It would not do to dwell on it if so."

"Of course not," he answered, continuing to refuse eye contact. "And if there was, I wouldn't want to talk about it."

What a difficult boy. She couldn't force the truth out of him without overstepping boundaries, and he wasn't exactly breaking any rules or acting as openly angry at her as before (likely because in this case, McGonagall wasn't the one to cause his anger). McGonagall supposed that it would be sensible to simply wait for him to calm down. Perhaps after term started, she could inform whoever his head of house turned out to be (as she highly doubted this boy would ever be a Gryffindor, given what she'd seen of him thus far) of this if whatever it was seemed to still bother him.

The one thing that did seem to thoroughly excite Waver Velvet was textbooks. McGonagall had suspected this based on her prior observations of the boy, and had thus left purchasing them for last. He seemed quite heartbroken that he was limited to only buying required textbooks, though he seemed reassured by the presence of a library within Hogwarts itself. McGonagall was almost certain by this point that this was the sort of student who read all his textbooks cover to cover before term officially started.

Waver was physically exhausted by the time they had finished shopping. McGonagall felt somewhat sorry for him as they trekked back through the woods where the portkey had been placed, now with the additional load of Waver's new belongings.

"The train leaves from King's Cross at eleven o'clock am on the 1st of September. Here is your ticket." McGonagall said as she handed it to him. "The platform is accessed by running at the wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10. I assume, since it is a Monday, it'll be difficult for your mother to accompany you?"

"That is likely the case."

"In that case, an escort will be sent to retrieve you the morning of. You will likely have to take a portkey again." McGonagall sighed. "Good day, Mr. Velvet." And she left without another word.

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**Well, if Tom Riddle could buy books despite growing up in a poor muggle orphanage... just reusing Dumbledore's explanation to him in Half-Blood Prince. **

**Also was unsure how they got students outside London to Diagon Alley in a timely manner, the simplest ways would be Floo and Portkeys, but with Waver's parents being muggles their fire would not be in the Floo network outside of exceptions like the Dursley's in GoF. So I just went with Portkey. If anyone has a more definitive answer, I'd love to hear it. **

**Review Replies:**

**green0photon: Most of the story doesn't take place in Hogwarts, actually. Remember, Harry began attending in the 1991-1992 school year. This means during the events of Philosopher's Stone/Sorcerer's Stone/whatever you want to call it, Waver would be a sixth year, not to mention he'd be in a different house because Gryffindor is honestly the only house I cannot see any argument for placing Waver in. I'm not entirely sure what not being canon-compliant would do to improve anything, and I feel it'd go against the spirit of what I'm trying to do if that makes any sense. I can't think of a portion of HP canon that I dislike that Waver would be in position to influence, the only one of the books whose plot I actively take issue with is OotP and Waver would have been out of school for two years by then.**

**Guest: Sort of an AU Waver I guess? With two main divergences, those being the different magical rules/culture in HP and no Rider (since regardless of my love of Rider, there's no logical way to include him in the story as far as I can tell). I'm aware canon Waver (pre-character development) thought he was the greatest genius to ever live, I have a two page character analysis of the guy sitting in the planning notes for the story. It's mostly he at this point knows basically nothing about magic beyond "it's real," compared to canon Waver at the time of Fate/Zero who was nineteen and had been studying for years, or trying to anyway. The "firmly thinks himself as a genius" aspect of his personality will hopefully be clearer once he starts being the POV character in the next chapter as up to this point the narration is mostly how McGonagall sees him. **

**I am aware that he's English, so I'm not sure why you pointed that out. Is that about what I said regarding Japanese text in the AN? That wasn't meant to imply Waver isn't English, it was just a note on how hard accents are to translate properly. Fate/Zero was written in Japanese, what Waver (and to some extent Rider) is saying is understood by the audience via translation convention and written in Japanese despite being said in English**** in universe****. It's hard to write an English accent into Japanese and that may be why he lacks one in English translations.**

**If you have more specific advice on what lines or such to change, I'd love to hear it if you're willing to log in though~**

**-Glace**


	3. Prologue III

**Thanks to Silverly for proofreading. I own nothing.**

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_Prologue III_

July 25, 1986

It had been over a week since Waver's longtime suspicions had been confirmed.

The strange occurrences that Waver's life had been filled with began when he was five. He had been spending free time at school attempting to read in peace, when a group of other children much bigger than him started to harass him. Since he had been against a wall at the time, he didn't really have any means to get away (though he wouldn't have been able to outrun them even if he did). The three boys had only gotten a few remarks off before they had all been knocked back by something, as if some large, invisible, burly man had spawned from nowhere to defend Waver, and they fell unconscious. Needless to say, they did not try to bother him again after that.

Waver wasn't blamed for the students' injuries when he reported it, even if he wasn't believed when he provided the explanation "it just happened" and was suspected as covering for the "real" assailant in his report. Waver was glad the other students had ceased bothering him, however. Despite that, there was a feeling of empathy Waver had tried very hard to beat back, telling himself "they would have hurt me, they deserved it" over and over. The three bullies had been rather severely injured by the magic, and looking at them lay there, still and unmoving aside from shaking breaths, was not something Waver saw often. And it was something he'd very much rather never see again.

Waver had eventually realized that every one of the occurrences were tied to dealing with something annoying him, through some experiments involving his door locking itself depending on whether he "wanted" to let his mother drag him out. When he specifically told his mother that she could drag him out of his room, and he waited patiently for her to do so, the door did not seem to lock itself. Waver's mother always claimed the door was simply off-center when it refused to budge, but Waver believed that had that been the case, it wouldn't be so consistent in matching what he wanted. In the then nine-year-old Waver's mind, if he was the source of the occurrences, then that must mean he could control them somehow. He'd certainly tried, with a small amount of success. The most he'd ever achieved was replication of the fake lock on his door.

The one success was enough to convince Waver though. The bizarre luck set him apart from the masses that were his peers. The fact that he could control that luck in some way just put him further above them. More than his prized intellect already did, anyway. The feeling of self importance that defined Waver caused him to respond poorly if anyone or anything looked down on him. Which, unfortunately, had been exactly what happened in that robe shop, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The mere thought of the conversation made Waver's blood boil as he poured over A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot. The older student had looked down on him, scoffed at him, for something as simple as his mother (and presumably his long-dead father) being non-magical? Why did that matter? Waver had, at the time, wanted very much to do something to exert control over the situation. But he was powerless. He was too frail and small-statured to land an effective physical strike, and being eleven and ignorant of the wider magical world until the prior day, he had essentially no proper magical training at all. Likewise, his ignorance about magical culture led to essentially no avenues being available of talking the boy down, though not for lack of trying.

Professor McGonagall's probing didn't help. When she asked, he wasn't going to humiliate himself further by admitting what happened. He had the impression that she realized anyway, given her line of questioning, which was bothersome. He doubted she meant any harm, and it even seemed more likely that she was trying to help. But to Waver, it just made him feel more humiliated.

Since buying the books, Waver had spent essentially all his time reading them cover to cover whenever he was not eating or sleeping. He'd already gotten through three, with A History of Magic being the fourth. Having these was a great comfort, in a way. Books wouldn't judge him like that boy had. Books shared their supply of knowledge equally.

Waver glanced at the sheet of paper he used to track the days until September 1st. Thirty-seven more to go. Time permitting, he'd be able to go through certain more confusing portions of his textbooks twice to make absolutely sure he understood them in full.

He truthfully wanted to try some of the things described in his textbooks, but Professor McGonagall had explicitly forbade him from actually trying anything before she left. It was illegal, apparently, to use magic outside of class prior to turning seventeen.

A banging at the door snapped Waver out of his thoughts. His mother had evidently just arrived home for the evening, and was once again determined to make him spend time with her instead of read. Waver had already eaten his dinner, and knew she'd likely give up if he simply ignored her enough.

It was annoying though. And according to Professor McGonagall, the accidental casting would likely settle down soon unless he got very angry, so the door sealing would, soon enough, no longer be reliable for keeping his mother out of his room.

He didn't understand why his mother was so… pushy. He read because he wanted to. Couldn't she just take the hint and leave him to it? Wasn't his thirst for knowledge a good thing? If he learned enough, he wouldn't have to live as they currently did. It wasn't the reason he valued knowledge as he did, but that alone should have convinced her in Waver's mind, yet in reality it didn't.

He glanced at his makeshift calendar again as his mother's banging at the door started to become more sporadic.

"This will be a long month," Waver sighed as he closed A History of Magic so that he could go to bed.

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**Not much to say about this. It's mostly just Waver's perspective on the last two chapters' events.**

**Review Replies:**

**Zentari2238: I'm sorry but... I'm not sure why you expected otherwise. He's eleven at this point, and has basically never left his hometown prior to Professor McGonagall showing up. Having him have his post-character development characterization right off the bat just... it wouldn't make any sense, and would be completely untrue to the character to boot. You can rest assured that he will get some development to be less of a... well, I can think of several words to put here, but for the sake of the rating I'll refrain. Just not in the exact same way as in canon because I can't think of a reasonable way to include Rider.**

**PasiveNox: Thanks.**

**-Glace**


	4. Prologue IV

**Usual thanks to Silverly for proofreading.**

**And usual reminder that I own nothing.**

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_Prologue IV_

September 1, 1986

The trip to King's Cross had been as uneventful as Waver had imagined it would be. It was essentially a repeat of the trip to Diagon Alley: head out to portkey in the woods, use it to get to London. He also had, like the trip to Diagon Alley a few months prior, needed to stop and catch his breath rather frequently, though the escort was seemingly sent at an excessively early hour to account for that.

Upon boarding the train, Waver chose the corner of an otherwise empty compartment, took out one of the novels he had received as a birthday gift from his mother a few years prior, and opened it to begin reading it for what felt like the twenty-seventh time. Waver already knew essentially everything about the book, but he felt that way about all the books he had with him, textbooks included. If he could, he would have brought books from the library with him, but as he'd be gone for several months on the other side of the country, he couldn't.

Some other students eventually entered the train compartment, which Waver realized was inevitable. There were only so many compartments, he couldn't realistically expect to have one to himself. Waver ignored them as they chattered amongst themselves and ignored him, only leaving once to change into their uniforms. Thankfully, the trip was otherwise simple.

When the train arrived at the station, Waver was glad to leave behind the three older students as he stepped out onto the platform. First years were being beckoned in a different direction than the rest, and compared to his disastrous encounter with that older student in Madam Malkin's, Waver was considerably more confident in his ability to save face and be taken seriously amongst a crowd his own age. Having read all his textbooks cover to cover, which these other first years surely didn't do, he had an upper hand on them. Or at least the ones with backgrounds similar to his, no magical parents.

The man beckoning the first years was quite a bit bigger than anyone else Waver had ever seen. Unlike Waver, he wasn't really taking any measures to hide his accent. He introduced himself to the first-years as Rubeus Hagrid, and ushered them over to a set of small boats docked by the lake.

Waver supposed this use of boats to cross the lake was part of some kind of entrance ceremony, though he wasn't sure what the point was if the only ones to witness it was the first years themselves and Mr. Hagrid. His co-occupants of the boat seemed to be others of non-magical background, judging by the sheer amazement on their faces when compared to some on the other boats.

To Waver, though, just seeing boats move on their own wasn't enough. He wanted to know how. He wanted to know the precise mechanism behind the movement. "It's magic," now that he knew it to be real, wasn't explanation enough.

After crossing the lake, Mr. Hagrid led the group of eleven-year-olds across the grounds and through the front gate of the castle. Waver kept silent on the trip to the castle, despite some murmuring chatter between his peers.

Professor McGonagall greeted the group as they approached the entrance hall, while Mr. Hagrid went around to resume his place at the staff table via the back entrance.

Waver quietly listened to Professor McGonagall's explanation of the sorting. From what it sounded like, it was how the school handled dormitory assignments and class scheduling. He had no idea what it entailed, but he'd read all his books. Whatever it was, he was most certainly ready.

Waver kept his back straight as he followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall, well aware of how many eyes were following him and the other first years after this point. To be taken seriously, he had to present himself seriously. He'd quickly learned that in his childhood. After all, someone who knew they were a genius would not act unconfident. A lot of the other first-years looked scared out of their minds. Waver felt somewhat sorry for them, with their lack of understanding of the requisite for confidence.

Waver took his spot among his peers at the Hall's front as Professor McGonagall turned around next to an old hat on a stool. The dinginess of the thing reminded Waver of the portkeys, and it probably smelled terrible up close. Waver would have wondered if it was a joke, but he already knew enough about Professor McGonagall from the shopping trip to know she was not the type to joke about these things. Whatever the hat was, it was most certainly relevant to the ceremony.

Waver found it rather unsurprising, given what he'd seen of the magical world thus far, when the hat began to sing. He thought it could really use some lessons, though the rest of the school seemed to disagree judging by the large amount of applause the hat had received.

Waver took the time as Professor McGonagall began calling names to contemplate the hat's song. He'd already heard about houses a bit from that annoying older student in Madam Malkin's, though the hat had graciously provided some extra details.

The older student had firmly believed that the only house worth speaking of was Slytherin, and the hat's comment on it indicated that they, like the boy, were not the type to take to those of non-magical heritage. What a silly rule, in Waver's mind. Heritage does not define people, he'd firmly believed this since he was small. That an entire fourth of the school might value it was annoying, he'd just have to show them he was worth as much as anyone else.

Hufflepuff gave him mixed feelings. The older student had scoffed at it, that was a plus. The hat had described it as the "house housing the hardest of workers and the loyalest of friends." Hard work was something that Waver put into anything he actually set his mind to, but he'd never felt truly devoted to anyone. Even his mother was not much more than an annoyance in his eyes.

Gryffindor seemed to be the house the older student had disdained the most. "Cocky show offs" he had called them. The hat's description did not seem to match the assessment, "house housing the bravest of defenders and most chivalrous of knights." Well, he supposed they could overlap, but he didn't really see how the hat's description would lead to the older boy's. Regardless, Waver didn't see himself as brave. He'd been so scared out of his mind in situations like the schoolyard bullies when he was five that the accidental magic trigger was all he could do. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, of course. He had a feeling the hat would know, though, as it was likely reading the students' minds to glean the necessary information to sort them.

The older student in the robe shop had seemed ambivalent to Ravenclaw. In Waver's mind, it seemed the most appealing. None of the blood-purity mania that seemed to define Slytherin, which without it would have been reasonable. Intelligence was the one thing Waver had that he prized the most, after all, and the hat's description as "house housing the smartest of knowledge seekers and wisest of scholars" had been exactly the sort of thing Waver personally valued. Yes, if he had a choice, he would pick Ravenclaw. It seemed like the best of them.

He'd nearly missed Professor McGonagall calling "Velvet, Waver" in his lost in thought trance. Waver straightened his back a little more as he marched up to the stool. As he suspected, he was last. He idly wondered why his mother didn't bother having a last-second marriage to his father so he could use his name instead of hers. At least then they wouldn't be close to last in anything that involved the alphabet.

The hat felt much too big as Professor McGonagall set it on his head after he sat on the stool, falling past Waver's nose due to his particularly small stature.

"Oh, you're a fairly open book, aren't you?" a voice in Waver's ear commented. "The sort that would simply lock themselves up to study all day, really… but there's also a rather strong desire to show that you're the genius you so strongly believe yourself to be… a certain arrogance to you..."

Waver said nothing specific in response, though he was mentally fuming at being called arrogant.

"Don't take criticism well, do you?" the hat asked. If he could, Waver would (try and fail to) give it a glare that could have made a child collapse in freight. "That's no good… Not terribly open-minded of you, regardless of your love for study, a trait Rowena hated and one she loved. Non-magical parents… you fit what Salazar valued aside from that… I do put those of non-magical heritage in there on occasion, but only if they really fit."

"I would rather not share dorm space and class with a group of people of which the majority would hate me for existing." Waver bluntly gave the hat his thoughts on the matter. "And don't say it's not taking criticism well, as I have no means of controlling who my parents were."

"A fair point," the hat replied. "In that case, you'd be better off in: RAVENCLAW!"

The hat shouted the last word so the whole hall could hear, causing spontaneous applause from the table second from the left.

Professor McGonagall removed the hat from Waver's head and moved to take the hat and stool from the front of the hall as he stood up to join the rest of the Ravenclaw table. He found the handshakes and shoulder claps as he sat down a tad annoying, but for the sake of maintaining composure, accepted them.

The noise at the Ravenclaw table quickly died down when the headmaster, whom Waver recognized from his History of Magic textbook, stood up to say something. Albus Dumbledore, supposedly strong enough to take down possibly the most powerful dark wizard Europe had faced in the last century, Gellert Grindelwald. Waver figured he'd probably not be all that different from Professor McGonagall. He had to be. Running a school wasn't easy, running a school whose students could break the laws of reality must be torture. Only someone strict could possibly handle it. Showing mercy would only result in potentially disastrous consequences if students failed to take him seriously.

"Now that we are sorted," he began. "It is expected that I say something to you! So I shall say this: Lollipop! Kitten! Fly! Hawthorn! That's all." He sat down. Waver could only stare in total confusion. That was anything but a proper opening speech. What was the headmaster thinking?

"He's usually like that." The boy who was sitting across from Waver noted, seemingly in response to Waver's incredulous staring. "He's a genius though, don't underestimate him just because he's weird."

"Surely one needs more… discipline, to administrate the teaching of magic?" Waver asked him. "From what I've read, this stuff is dangerous if used improperly. Keeping control over irresponsible teenagers is vital, correct?"

"Apparently not!" He laughed. "Well, I suppose maintaining order is important. But you can be weird and still maintain order." He paused. "I assume your family are muggles, yes? Based on what you just said about needing to read about magic to know how dangerous it can be."

"They are, yes," Waver muttered. This again. There was no point in lying, the truth wouldn't be able to hide itself if he did. Waver just hoped the conversation would resolve itself quickly.

"You don't seem happy about that," the boy observed. "I'm Kieran Burns, by the way, sixth year. Waver Velvet, was it?"

"Yes, that's my name. And don't worry about my parents." It came out more harshly than Waver really intended. Based on the boy's tone when noting Waver didn't seem happy, there was a chance that he didn't really care about Waver's non-magical upbringing.

"Just so you know, most people won't really care about who your parents are. A few will, but they have a tendency to be from the old wealthy families who refuse to change their views. Best just ignore them." And that was likely confirmation of that.

"So long as there are people who do care, I feel it's best to not bring it up." Waver started to eat as an excuse to look anywhere but at the Burns boy. He didn't take much, as Waver had never had much appetite even when he was in a better mood than he was now. "I'd rather not open myself up to getting insulted."

"I suppose that's fair." the other student allowed. "How much have you heard about recent history in our world? There was a pretty big war that ended just a few years ago. I can tell you some, if you want."

This was a slightly more comfortable change of topic. "All I really know is the information in first-year textbooks and some explanation Professor McGonagall gave me about the basic culture. I haven't interacted with magical folk for more than two days, those being Professor McGonagall explaining everything and buying school books with her back in mid-July, and today." Well, maybe not entirely comfortable. It still concerned his lack of any knowledge of this society beyond books.

So the boy told Waver all about how right as he had been starting his first year, the most powerful British Dark Wizard of the twentieth century, who had been terrorizing magical Britain for years to an extent that no one would say his name, had fallen due to a one-year-old child.

"So this war abruptly ended because somehow, an unblockable spell was blocked. By a toddler." Waver stated. Privately, Waver was already trying to work out how that could have happened. From the limited understanding first-year spellbooks provided, he could think of a few possibilities.

Possibility one: it could have been a particularly impressive display of accidental magic. If true, Harry Potter must be incredibly gifted. Unfortunately, the fact that Potter was living with a group of non-magical relatives meant it was impossible to know the general scope of his accidental casting.

Possibility two: James and Lily Potter knew a countercurse, but never told anyone. Compared to the first theory, this had several holes. First, there was no apparent incentive for them not to tell anyone. They were fighting this "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" guy actively, and would want to neutralize as much of his threat as they could. Second, the explanation caused a simple question to rise in response: "If Mr. and Mrs. Potter knew a counter to a curse of instant death, why did they only use it on their son and not themselves?" It also made one wonder why they would hide if they could counter the curse normally.

Possibility three: and the most likely, it was caused by something that couldn't be explained by first-year spellbooks. As soon as he had the chance to look at the library, he supposed looking into the use other kinds of magic when countering curses could be a place to start for class-independent studying.

"Well, there was a bit of cleanup after," Kieran replied. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had a lot of followers, and they remained active. The Ministry managed to catch most of them, or they claim they did anyway. Either way, things are finally beginning to settle down again."

Waver really wasn't too interested in that part compared to the idea of an unblockable spell being blocked by a child. Another first year had taken up questioning Kieran on the events as he recalled them, leaving Waver to think it over to himself. Even Professor Dumbledore's proper start of term announcements prior to dessert did not completely break Waver out of thinking about it, though he did pay enough attention to make sure he didn't miss any particularly important information. He mentioned something about Cursed Vaults, which sounded vaguely interesting, but explicitly forbade any investigation. Professor Dumbledore had, seemingly uncharacteristically if the student reactions were any indication, shouted part of this announcement, and the last thing Waver needed or wanted was expulsion or death. Studying the rumors in the library was thus as far as he was willing to go. No need to endanger himself or others over a matter of curiosity.

After eating, first years were to be led to the dorms by prefects. Chester Davies, a seventh year, ushered Waver and the eight or so other first year Ravenclaws in the direction of the staircases. Waver was uncertain if he'd be able to remember the route, not helped by the fact the staircases moved. Spatial awareness was not his strongest suit, and he couldn't help but wonder why maps were not standard issue among first years in such a confusing castle. They could be magical maps that changed layout with the castle, or listed the pattern in which the layout would change.

Davies led the first years straight to one of the castle towers, where a wooden door with a bronze knocker shaped as an eagle awaited them. Upon Davies knocking upon it, it sang quietly: "One may choose one of three prisons to receive punishment. One is filled with the dementors. One with flames. One with a dragon who has not eaten in many millennia. Which would be the safest punishment to choose?"

"Do any of you know?" Davies asked.

"How long can dragons go without eating?" Waver asked in response. "They're probably big, so they'd need a ton of energy to sustain themselves, unless the 'many millennia' thing is a hyperbole, it would have died of starvation. I fail to see why the door is asking this question, however."

"Access to the common room is granted from solving a riddle such as this one. After all, only a true member of Ravenclaw house would be able to answer," Davies explained. "Is everyone in agreement on Waver's reasoning for the dragon?"

Davies' question was met with general assent among the first years. "All right then, the dragon."

"Well reasoned," the door replied before it swung open.

Waver thought the riddle was a somewhat silly security measure, as the hat's debating on his own placement indicated it was possible to qualify to similar extents for multiple houses. Had he been placed in Slytherin, it would not have affected his ability to answer that riddle. Of course that'd require knowing where the Ravenclaw dormitory was. In a way, Waver thought, the architecture of the castle was far better at keeping members of other houses out of the Ravenclaw dormitory than that riddle could ever hope to be.

A lot of students had arrived at the room prior to the first years and Davies. Most were studying; some playing chess. Davies ignored them as he explained the layout of the tower: common room being where they currently stood, dorms through the door at the back with boys dorms up the right stairway and the girls on the left, with this year's first years taking the third door of each stairway.

Waver dashed upstairs as soon as Davies finished his explanation and let them go. As soon as he reached the third door in the boys' stairway, pointedly labelled "First Years," he burst in and located his belongings. Idly, he wondered how bed assignments had been made so quickly, considering they had been sorted only an hour and a half or so ago, and the staff had been eating at the same time as the students as far as he could tell. He supposed there was a staff member absent from the feast after sorting had finished, though he hadn't seen a single person leave.

Waver changed into his nightclothes quietly, drawing the drapes around the bed to ensure some privacy. Part of him wanted to stay up and study, but the confusing hallways and staircases had made him think twice about that idea. He'd need to wake up early if he wanted to reach his morning classes on time in the future, so it would be wise to get in the habit of not staying awake.

There was also the matter of having learned of some interesting recent events, for as much as five years prior could be seen as recent. The matter of just how Harry Potter had deflected the undeflectable was still the most interesting thing on Waver's mind, and he doubted he'd be able to concentrate on studying. Sleeping, he felt, would be able to refresh his mind, to let him focus on other things.

And he was tired. There was that too.

Waver ignored the three other first year Ravenclaw boys shuffling into the room and changing as he leaned back and let himself drift off.

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**I usually dislike including OC's in fanfiction, as I personally read fanfiction to read about the canon cast not someone's OC, but for this and with how I'm defining "Nasuverse to HP transition" (namely, strictly maintaining characters home countries and birth dates while attempting to maintain general background) it was somewhat inevitable that I couldn't get away with leaving everyone unnamed. We're never actually introduced to any of Waver's peers from prior to the Fourth Grail War, aside from Melvin (the guy who gave Waver the plane tickets) who, since that part of Case Files remains untranslated to my knowledge, I can't actually use due to not knowing enough about the character. Maybe once the anime airs this summer, I will go back and retcon him into the story somehow. Maybe. **

**As such, the way I'm largely going to approach OC's is they are there primarily for worldbuilding purposes. Their purpose is to make Waver not the seemingly only person in the class of 1993 (the only canon characters in this year are pre-retcon Marcus Flint, and probably Stan Shunpike who was 21 when he was arrested in mid-September 1996****), they're an extra I can't avoid naming without seeming awkward (this is the case with Kieran), etc.**

**On Waver's house: Well, if you wanted him to be a Slytherin, that means you agree with Silver, so, uh, congrats, you're not the only one. I went back and forth on it, but eventually decided it'd be really weird to put a muggle-born in Slytherin during the 1980's and would probably just make Waver's life excessively miserable. Plus the hat takes what the student wants into account to at least some degree (it did for Harry, but not Neville or Albus Potter). I'll interpret that as if a student qualifies for multiple houses to similar extents, the hat will go with the student's wishes. So for Harry, who qualified for Gryffindor and maybe Slytherin, asking "no Slytherin" got him Gryffindor. For Neville, he simply was far more qualified for Gryffindor in the hat's eyes, so the hat refused to listen to Neville plead for Hufflepuff. Etc.**

**I will be treating the events of Hogwarts Mystery as more-or-less canon for the purposes of the story, mainly because it's the only notable source of information for what might have happened Waver's first five school years as no one really talks about what was happening in Hogwarts while Harry was with the Dursleys in the books. As with Harry's adventures, Waver will remain uninvolved with what the HM protag is doing, being two years below them (and for convenience's sake in a different house). However, events that are visible to the whole school will be noticed by and affect Waver, such as Dumbledore's speech about Cursed Vaults here. I'll also be looking to it to get a clearer idea what exactly is taught in which year and when in the year it's taught. Harry doesn't exactly provide a lot of detail about, say, First Year Charms class, outside of Halloween's lesson on the Levitation charm.**

**Apologies for the lengthy AN. There was just a lot to say on this chapter...**

**Anyway, review replies:**

**PasiveNox: Definitely.**

**longbowchris50: Thank you. I'll try my best to not disappoint.**

**Warpwind: Thank you.**

**-Glace**


	5. Prologue V

**I own nothing. Silverly proofread so thanks for that.**

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_Prologue V_

September 2, 1986

Having gone to bed earlier than usual, Waver was able to wake up fairly early the next day. Careful not to wake the other boys in the room, who were still sleeping, he quickly changed into his uniform, gathered his things, and darted down to the common room. Breakfast was to begin in an hour, but Waver wanted to take some time to become more familiar with the castle layout before he went to eat.

It was, as he quickly discovered, a good call on his part. The castle was enormous, which he already knew, and confusing, which he also knew. He'd still managed to underestimate it somehow. Just the seventh floor west side, where the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower was, was a nightmare to navigate. He managed to get a clear idea of the seventh floor layout, but little else by the time he had to return to the first floor to eat, and even then he was still slightly late.

Schedules were being handed out to the Ravenclaws by a professor who managed to be even smaller than Waver. He introduced himself as the head of house, Professor Flitwick. Waver greeted him politely, then turned to look over his schedule.

He had no classes on the seventh floor on Tuesday, unfortunately. Thursday at midnight was the only time he had class in one of the towers accessed from the floor, Astronomy. From the looks of his schedule, his first class was in the exact opposite location, the dungeons, for Potions. Waver dearly hoped he wouldn't get lost. It would be a terrible first impression for Professor Snape if Waver showed up late for class. Waver hoped that if the worst came to pass, his devoted studying from over the summer would be able to bring him back to the teacher's good graces.

Waver ate quickly, to ensure he had the maximum amount of time before his class to reach it. He needed it, since the first thing he ran into on the way down to the dungeons happened to be a poltergeist harassing a few second-year Hufflepuff girls who had been late for breakfast. Waver attempted to ignore them (surely they could handle it themselves, they had magic), focused on his goal, but unfortunately, the poltergeist had some other plans.

"Oho? What's an ickle firstie doing out here alone by another house's dormitory?" he cackled at Waver, floating in front of him and gesturing rudely.

"I am going to class, so leave me alone," Waver told him bluntly as he attempted to walk around him and move on. The poltergeist took that as an opportunity to drop some eggs he pulled from… somewhere, likely stolen from the kitchens somewhere nearby, directly onto Waver's head.

Now Waver was legitimately angry. He'd studied hadn't he? Sure, he'd been forbidden from actually practicing before school began, but surely he could do some technically harmless jinx on this stupid imp and get him out of his hair. Literally, as said hair was now coated in raw egg, and he dearly wished he knew a spell to clean it out.

Waver's hastily made plans for quick revenge were interrupted by the arrival of one of the instructors, who seemingly had been searching for the late Hufflepuffs. "For goodness sake, Peeves." the woman scolded. She was slightly plump, and her clothing was rather dirty. "Leave the younger students be and go away. Or I'll call the Baron. He'll get a handle on you."

Peeves seemed to take that as a challenge, promptly pelting the professor with the eggs. "Don't say I didn't warn you." she sighed, turning to the Hufflepuff girls and pulling out their schedules. "The Bloody Baron is in the Great Hall, as you're already on the way there, alert him at once." Peeves' face fell immediately as he went to chase after them.

Throughout this, Waver had been watching, wand in hand after preparing to jinx Peeves with a spell in his Defense Against the Dark Arts book and silently cursing the lack of spell for fixing his hair and clothing in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. His hair stuck together from the portion of the whites that stuck after the majority of the egg slipped off and fell to the floor and onto his uniform, as some rigid mockery of hair spray that Waver most definitely did not require.

The teacher turned to Waver once the Hufflepuff girls and Peeves were out of sight. "Oh dear, I'm sorry about him. The caretaker has been attempting to get him thrown out for ages, without success. Are you alright? I can clean that up for you, if you would like." She didn't wait for his answer, waving her wand over his head and causing the egg to promptly dry up as if it had never been there to begin with. "Where are you going, anyway? This is the way to the kitchens, there are no classrooms with first year classes here."

"I was going to Potions, which is stated to be in the dungeons." Waver responded, trying desperately to ignore the humiliated reddening of his cheeks and speaking far more harshly than necessary. "I imagine it was the stairs on the other side then?"

"Yes, indeed," the instructor replied, seeming annoyed by Waver's harsh tone but at the same time not commenting on it. "I will be seeing you in Herbology tomorrow, tata." She rushed off, and Waver quietly sighed in relief. Being essentially rescued from having eggs dropped on him was embarrassing, even if he did remember a jinx to put Peeves in his place. He supposed he'd have to skip lunch to look up spells to deal with Peeves' messes in the library. A repeat of this incident was the last thing he needed.

He'd gathered quite the list of topics to look up at this point. Cursed Vaults, development of countercurses and potential scope of accidental magic, and now cleaning spells. He supposed the cleaning would be the most practical place to start, it couldn't be terribly complex if it was used for something so mundane, and finding the books to begin with shouldn't be difficult.

But for now, getting to class. If the encounter with Peeves and the Herbology professor (he checked his schedule for her name, Sprout apparently) had done anything, it was tell him he'd been going the wrong way the whole time. He wondered again why the school seemed so lacking in directive signs or maps. The elementary school he had attended previously was less than a sixteenth the size of the castle and had these things to ensure students knew where they were supposed to go.

Waver was relieved when it turned out he'd arrived at the door to the Potions classroom prior to it being unlocked. He'd already embarrassed himself enough for the day with the egg incident in front of Professor Sprout.

It wasn't until after breakfast had officially concluded that the instructor arrived at the dungeon. Waver was still the only student waiting by the door. "And why might you be here so early? Class does not start for another fifteen minutes."

"Better early than late," Waver replied. "I need to make sure I know where classes are, you see. Given the lack of directions here, I made sure to take extra time to locate class, Professor."

"Given that some things in that classroom are potentially dangerous, you are not to do it again. One point from Ravenclaw for this time." The instructor answered coldly.

Waver thought that this was ridiculous, considering the door was locked and he was standing outside it, perhaps Professor Snape should have locked the hallway to his classroom as well if he had a problem with students waiting outside the door.

Naturally, he voiced his discontent. "Then why was this hallway, outside the classroom, unlocked? I couldn't access any of the dangerous substances in there from where I was. If it is dangerous to merely stand outside your classroom, I shouldn't have been able to get this far in the first place. Or at the very least, I should have been informed that I was not allowed to reach class early," Waver said angrily.

"That's enough. Another point taken from Ravenclaw for your cheek." Professor Snape turned and swept into his classroom.

Fuming, Waver followed Professor Snape into the classroom and took a seat near the center of the room. This was already going horribly. The instructor made no indication that he cared where Waver chose to sit.

The remaining students slowly filed into the room over the next fifteen minutes. The class was to be taken jointly by the first years in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses, as Waver quickly discovered when a round-faced Hufflepuff boy sat next to him.

Professor Snape had begun drawling out his lecture with a glare for barely five minutes before late-coming students began to stumble through the door.

This made him very noticeably angry. Waver couldn't really bring himself to blame him, though it made his punishment for being too early seem even more absurd.

"So, since you had the audacity to be late," Professor Snape was asking, "I assume you can tell me the use of Bubotuber pus as it relates to potion-making?"

The Hufflepuff girl that had evidently gotten slightly lost on the way through the dungeons looked white as a sheet and clearly terrified. "I… I… um…"

Waver recalled that the pus was apparently used for potions meant to treat acne, despite the raw form being extremely hazardous for skin. He raised his hand, but Professor Snape ignored him. "That will be ten points from Hufflepuff and detention for both of you, Jones, Shunpike. Do not be late again. For the uninformed, Bubotuber pus when properly prepared can form a cream that can easily treat the worst acne." Waver put down his hand as the Jones girl sat . "And Velvet, Green, Kirchen, I was not asking any of you. That will be five points from your respective houses each." Waver felt like the Professor had some odd fixation on removing house points and would use any excuse he could at this point.

Regardless, his directions for the day's assignment were fairly simple. The students were assigned to pairs based on their surnames (with those at the start of the alphabet being paired with those at the end), and were to brew a simple boil-removing potion. Waver was paired with the round-faced Hufflepuff, named Gregory Anderson. Anderson was not deadweight, surprisingly, but rather fairly competent. The potion he and Waver had brewed seemed to meet the instructor's expectations, no more or less, as he didn't comment when he looked at it.

The class was surprisingly uneventful aside from the Hufflepuff students' late arrival. Regardless of that, Waver's initial impression of Professor Snape was not particularly favorable. He seemed to believe, when introducing himself to the class, that the lot of them were complete morons. It was beyond insulting, and made Waver incredibly angry. He didn't even know anyone in the class, let alone Waver. Well, perhaps he had brought one of the other students of non-magical background to buy supplies as Professor McGonagall had for Waver. Waver pitied this student, if they existed.

He was worried now. Of the four teacher's he'd met, Professor Snape was the only one to be genuinely unfriendly, but the fact that a teacher was allowed to hold such an attitude at all was a bad sign for the ones that remained.

Regardless, he'd just have to show Professor Snape his brilliance. Of the potions that the class had brewed, Waver and Anderson's was supposedly the closest to correct, after all. The essay that had been assigned should be simple enough. Waver had always had something of a talent for detail in those.

Potions took nearly two hours, so there was to be an hour of History of Magic before lunch at midday. Second floor, apparently, a standard classroom, and Waver had twenty minutes to get there.

Unlike his earliness to Potions, Waver along with the other Ravenclaws were barely on time for Professor Binns's course. Waver paid attention, difficult as it was. The ghost's voice seemed to have the magical property of making everything he said sound as boring as possible. Which seemed strange when the actual material had not seemed boring when Waver had read it in A History of Magic over the summer.

Finally, the end of morning classes arrived. Waver didn't attend lunch, preferring to confirm the locations of his afternoon classes and the library. The Ravenclaw common room had books, sure, but it surely paled in comparison to the proper library.

Waver was delighted upon discovering the size of the library. He'd have more than enough study material for the next seven years in here. Unfortunately, he didn't have as much time as he would like thanks to a combination of sentient doors and moving stairways whilst trying to locate the library.

Not paying much mind to the hawk-eyed librarian, who glared at him as he passed, Waver set to work in the charms section to see if he could find a spellbook on cleaning charms. Never again would the poltergeist dropping something sticky and gross in his hair cause a problem for him. He supposed he'd have to practice within the dormitories, as he doubted the librarian would take kindly to any casting in here, and he couldn't exactly fault her for that line of thinking.

The next topic wasn't so simple. It seemed practically all information on the Cursed Vaults had been pulled from the shelves, presumably to prevent the students who had nearly killed off the school the previous year from getting their hands on them. Unfortunate, but it was doubtful that there was anything Waver could do to get his hands on a book on them without resorting to outright theft. While tempting, the consequences for getting caught were far too great to risk over a matter of vague curiosity. Not to mention it'd be difficult to pull off without being caught. Without a means to become completely invisible, he'd have to try to raise a distraction, and that would be too easy to trace back to him.

The third topic to look into was countercurses to see if there was anything that could have possibly saved Harry Potter. Scanning the contents on the books he could find was spectacularly unhelpful. Truthfully, given that the killing curse was supposedly unblockable, this didn't surprise Waver. He kept some books on countercurse development for checkout, as that information would be potentially useful. He also planned to question the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor on the matter. Perhaps he would have more leads.

Waver had to remind himself to leave for Charms when the end of the lunch hour approached, as he still hadn't had time to look up the scope of accidental magic. He quietly thanked the librarian as he checked out the books and headed for Professor Flitwick's classroom.

Charms consisted of learning a simple spell to light the tip of a wand. Professor Flitwick was as cheerful and relaxed as he had been that morning, kindly answering questions as they were asked. Waver was already enjoying the subject. As simple as the spell was, it meant there was no longer a need to ever fear the dark.

Two hours of Transfiguration after was similarly interesting. Professor McGonagall was strict, but she explained the topic clearly and concisely. Waver succeeded with turning his matchstick into a needle rather quickly relative to the other students thanks to prior study, and like all the classes sans Potions, it passed without incident.

Dinner passed in short order. It was good, but Waver really seldom had much in the way of appetite. It was somewhat annoying having older students try to coax him into taking more. They all believed it strange a boy who would turn twelve in a month could be so easily satiated.

Waver waited for Professor Dumbledore to give any announcements for the day before he quickly excused himself to return to the dormitory and practice some simple charms. If he could properly perform those, he'd begin practicing the cleaning charms from the book he'd checked out of the library. He still had classes the next day after all. The sooner he started practicing, the sooner he could go to bed once he finished.

It was fairly late by the time the other three students in the dorm were begging Waver to go to sleep and stop making noise.

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**This will be the last really lengthy chapter for a while. Maybe. At the very least, Prologue VI, VII, and VIII are fairly short in comparison to IV and V.**

**Is Professor Snape too unreasonable? He's a pretty awful teacher in canon for multiple reasons (verbally abusive to the point it actively makes students worse at the class, and anyone who has ever taught Chemistry will tell you that you don't really learn anything from just following directions on a blackboard) but I worried I may have gone a bit far on exaggerating it. **

**Review Replies:**

**PasiveNox: And it still has several years of in universe time to go before the Prologue's over...**

**-Glace**


	6. Prologue VI

**Thanks to Silverly and also another friend of mine named Proto for proofreading. I own nothing.**

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_Prologue VI_

October 1, 1986

It had been nearly a month since Waver had arrived at northern Scotland.

Classes were going smoothly thus far, mostly. It didn't take long for him to be noted as being the top of the class for written assignments. Practical casting wasn't quite as easy as it looked on paper, but Waver had generally succeeded.

The greatest annoyance was Professor Snape. Waver really had no idea why he was even allowed to teach. For starters, he seemed to inherently dislike three-quarters of the student body, as it turned out he treated members of Slytherin vastly differently from the other three houses, which Waver learned from accidentally eavesdropping on some Gryffindors leaving the dungeons after class with him. And in addition to that, he didn't actually seem to want to teach. He just wrote directions on the blackboard most of the time without actual explanation as to why the directions worked. As a result, Waver often found himself having to explain to his classmates after looking up the information in the library.

It was really a shame, because potions were otherwise something he was decent at; they were not terribly difficult once he knew the properties of the ingredients and steps. The explanations he gave to his classmates were clear and concise, and he rarely messed up on his own once he'd done his research. The only thing that seemed to give him trouble was a teacher who seemed to adamantly refuse to recognize Waver's apparent genius for the brilliance it was, and preferred to view him as an annoying pest.

Waver had, of course, voiced his discontent. All it got him was a week's worth of detentions. Which just made the whole situation all the more infuriating.

At least the library didn't hate him. It was a much more effective instructor, for all intents and purposes.

His progress in looking into Harry Potter's survival had gone nowhere. No matter how much he read on countercurses, he couldn't piece together a way James and Lily Potter could have created one that only protected Harry and not themselves. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was useless as well. When Waver asked, he just brushed him off and pretended he was too young to understand in an attempt to hide his own lack of knowledge on the matter of the events that night.

The last of his problems was his classmates in Herbology and Flying classes.

It was not that Waver was bad at Herbology. Sure, he wasn't fond of the dirt, but that wasn't the issue either. It was simply that the class was taken jointly with the Slytherin house, much like how Potions was taken with Hufflepuff. Waver had been right to ask the Sorting Hat to not place him there, as the lot of them were completely insufferable and seemed to agree with that older student in Madam Malkin's on the matter of people of non-magical background. They looked down on him and scoffed at him even as he topped their scores. In particular, they seemed to find his constant detention with Professor Snape hilarious.

Professor Sprout had tried to keep their behaviour under control; she had already given them a few detentions, but the time immediately following class as the students left the greenhouses seemed to be the prime time for teasing.

Flying was worse than Herbology. Same set of house pairing as Herbology for Waver's year, so the issues that applied to it applied to them. It just happened to be worse due to a major problem for Waver for the class: he was incredibly terrified of heights, and it did not take long for his classmates to discover this fact. The teasing over this was relentless, and would just cause Waver to angrily lash out at whoever brought it up. Unfortunately, people just seemed to find it more amusing than scary. Jinxing them was out of the question as long as Madam Hooch was there, and as a result she was often the one who had to diffuse the situation. Which, like Professor Sprout cleaning up the eggs that Peeves had thrown, was nothing short of humiliating.

Waver was aware the teasing over fears was beginning to become something of an epidemic due to a current infestation of Boggarts plaguing the school, to give some additional paranoia of people finding out things Waver feared other than flying. He'd been lucky enough to avoid personally encountering any, but he had started looking up how to deal with them for when he did. He wasn't sure what it'd transform into, as he doubted it could convincingly turn into something to represent a fear of heights, since the fear would be too conceptual for the Boggart. So it had to turn into something else, and Waver really could not deduce what it could possibly do.

Waver sighed as he continued on his way to the dormitory. He had Wednesday afternoons off, so he spent that time learning as much as he could.

Today's goal was to deal with the boggart that had made its home in his classmate, Adrian Figg's, closet. Figg had staunchly refused to touch the closet again after discovering it, and Waver was already aware the other three boys had agreed to study in the library for the afternoon, making it ideal to practice dealing with a Boggart while out of sight of anyone who might want to tease him over whatever it turned into. If he could deal with this one, then encountering another when not alone would be quickly dealt with before anyone else could figure out anything else he feared.

Determined, Waver marched through the door labeled "first years" and approached the cabinet. He could definitely do this. Boggarts weren't that dangerous. They just wanted to scare whoever they faced. And he had read as much as he could on them and how to deal with them in light of the infestation. He just needed a practice target. Yeah.

He put a hand on the cabinet, carefully loosening the ropes that held the handles shut. Why was he hesitating? Pushing the thought into the corner of his mind, he pulled open the door.

Nothing came out of the cabinet.

That was strange. The boggart definitely was still here, as the ropes his roommate had tied to keep it contained were still present.

"Why are you so useless?" Waver looked around. Still nothing. The creepiest thing about the voice that was spoken had been that it was identical to his own. But this was almost certainly the boggart's doing, so he just had to find it, cast the spell, and laugh at it.

"You can't find me?" The boggart(?) kept taunting. "How pathetic. Maybe that is why your Defense Against the Dark Arts score is so low, you worthless-"

"Riddikulus!" It wasn't Waver. A fifth year prefect had walked into the room and dealt with the boggart, causing it to properly materialize and change from whatever invisible being it was to a pile of three stuffed lions, the closet's owner on his heels. Wasn't he supposed to be studying?

"Why did you open it?" The prefect demanded. "It's not truly dangerous, but first years still shouldn't be handling these."

"If they're all over the school, we have to learn how to handle them." Waver replied angrily. "I planned to use that one for practice on the charm to deal with them after looking it up."

"So why were you just standing there?" the prefect retorted. "Detention on Saturday, Velvet, for being so reckless." He left, leaving Waver alone with Figg.

"...Why-"

"Don't ask about it." Waver deflected. "It's a long story."

Figg seemed unfazed. "By the way, Shunpike was looking for you. Something about not understanding what he did wrong on his boil-curing potion exam."

Waver blinked at the sudden topic change. "I explained that to him about five times, I even made sure he wrote it down. If he doesn't get it by now it's his own fault."

"I tried to tell him you would say that." Figg sighed. "I'm taking a nap. Don't make too much noise if you intend to stay in here."

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**Review replies:**

**RedBurningDragon: Yeah, it's not a position he was suited to.**

**-Glace**


	7. Prologue VII

**Thanks to Silverly and Proto for Proofreading. I own nothing.**

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_Prologue VII_

May 3, 1987

The end-of-the-year exams were fast approaching Waver as he sat in his dorm room on the Saturday morning, looking over his notes from the past year.

It had taken a while, but he finally felt acclimated to the magical world. He could retort when someone insulted him, point out that he outperformed in class and they just were coasting off their fathers' coattails instead of learning.

He didn't feel like an outsider anymore, even if he'd never admit to feeling that way.

Waver's greatest asset seemed to revolve around a well-above-average ability to grasp theory. His essays were perfect, even when he had been unable to properly cast. Which only got more frequent as the year went on, if not notably so.

The boggarts were becoming more common lately, which Waver had avoided personally crossing again. No need to potentially let anyone else hear a boggart insult him other than the prefect and Figg.

Waver had little time to study on his own today, as he'd already told some Hufflepuffs as well as Figg and a Ravenclaw girl named Harriet Snow that he'd explain the mechanism of Forgetfulness Potion to them in the library at noon, since Professor Snape never did. It was useful for both them and for himself, as a sure sign that one understands something is the ability to teach it to someone else, so Waver did not complain about the arrangement. Now that he thought about it, helping some of the new first years with potions next year might be a decent way to earn a bit of spare money. He couldn't charge a lot, but it'd make him less reliant on the school for books and ingredients.

He hated relying on others.

He should get back to studying the knockback jinx. The Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor's perpetual uselessness resulted in a lot of extra study for the course, not helped by the fact that, unlike Potions, Waver was frustratingly useless at defensive magic. Whenever the class was paired off to practice on each other, Waver was inevitably on the receiving end of plenty of humiliation. The exercises just made him far too nervous about being hit or accidentally injuring the other person, resulting in being unable to focus on properly countering. It was frustrating. He could do the spells, he was sure, he just could not apply them even in a situation as mild as a group of eleven and twelve year olds firing at each other for educational purposes.

Waver glanced at the clock hung on the wall in the back of the room. There wasn't much time until noon, when he had to meet the Hufflepuffs, Figg, and Snow in a largely unused classroom on the third floor. He supposed he had to leave then.

Packing some of the Potions textbooks he had checked out of the library, Waver headed for the third floor.

The group of students waiting there smiled when he arrived. Waver nodded in acknowledgement, taking a seat at the circular table they had surrounded. "Well, I suppose it's convenient you all got here before me," he noted as he counted the other students present. "But… who are you exactly?" The group of five students Waver had agreed to meet were all Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He hadn't been expecting a sixth head from Gryffindor to catch wind of the makeshift Potions lecture and decide to tag along.

"Oh, Rachel told me during Herbology on Friday," the student said, blushing. "I'd told her I was worried about my Potions grade and she suggested tagging along. I'm her sister, Mary."

"Oh." Waver idly wondered why Rachel hadn't brought Mary with her sooner than May. She'd been asking him for help since October, after all. Maybe she just assumed Mary's grades were fine and hadn't brought it up.

The explanation of why Forgetfulness Potion was made the way it was was rattled off rather quickly and still took a good hour. He'd spent ages looking up the specific magical properties of the ingredients before doing this, the difference between clockwise and counterclockwise stirring, what exactly was in Standard Ingredient and the magical properties of that, all to be one-hundred percent sure that he would be able to remember the actual recipe. And hopefully, be able to teach these six (formerly five) how to remember the recipe. He had notes on it with him, just to make sure he didn't forget to mention anything important.

The original five peers seemed to have understood most of Waver's explanation, though Mary Green's reaction was that of surprise. "Why didn't Professor Snape mention any of that?"

"No idea," Waver answered truthfully. "I get the feeling this stuff just comes easily to him, though. He just doesn't get that not everyone is going to immediately know it." Waver sighed. "Who knows, though, really? He could just not want to actually teach it."

"Maybe you should just replace him then." She grumbled. "It's so easy to forget things if you're just following directions. So thanks."

"Well, obviously, this is simple stuff." Waver stated proudly. "You can find basically all of this information in the library, though, if you know where to look. A lot of it is in the Herbology or Magizoology sections, and inorganic ingredients like the Lethe River water can be researched in the sections on magical substances and sometimes magical locations. The effects of various methodologies can, of course, be found in a Potions book." Waver deliberately ignored the idea of replacing Professor Snape. He wouldn't mind, if it meant Professor Snape could go do whatever he actually wanted to do after Waver graduated and would thus no longer be bullying and belittling students. He doubted he'd be allowed to teach immediately after leaving school anyway.

"So, do you want us to help you with Defense Against the Dark Arts in return? Rachel told me you're not good at it," Mary asked.

"No, I've been practicing on my own." He wasn't in the mood to embarrass himself with his poor reaction time and tendency to get caught up on the dangerous aspects of the drills any more than necessary. He had enough of that in class. Besides, defensive magic just wasn't something he found particularly interesting, except for the theory involved. And the theory was essentially just an extension of the theory behind Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions.

Confident they'd understood Forgetfulness Potion, Waver turned and marched out of the classroom before they could say anything else about his ability to defend himself.

* * *

**Yay, tutoring.**

**Sorry about the delay, Proto really procrastinated on reading the chapter... So I decided to delay the schedule by a week to accommodate that + some writers block I had on Prologue X. **

**Review Replies:**

**PasiveNox, alexc123: Thank you**

**Warpwind: What's a Waver Worm? **

**gabe. d. clark. 1997 (sorry, FFN doesn't like your UN because it looks like a URL I guess): It's all in HP world, where nothing makes sense and Rowling never elaborates on the stuff that matters! ...or something like that.**

**As for the Iskandar thing... I dunno, it still sounds a bit contrived. Like, I can't disturb the status quo of Magical Britain at all in this story. Waver gets an ordinary life for the most part (not completely so, that would be boring, but you get the idea). **

**I feel like something like that would be a pretty big Statute of Secrecy breach and require some pretty big contrivances to make him meet Waver at all, because as far as I'm aware Alexander the Great had never gone to the British Isles, so he'd need a reason to either go there himself (before Statute of Secrecy enforcement comes after him), or for Waver to leave the UK... and then just happen across each other... and start talking... Like, I'm pretty sure the main reason Waver spent time with Rider at first was they were literally magically tied to each other by the way Servants work, considering he initially found him pretty annoying. **

**I dunno.**

**-Glace**


	8. Prologue VIII

**Thanks to Silverly and Proto for proofreading. I own nothing.**

**EDIT UPDATE: Proto is kinda feeling miserable right now, so Chapter 9 is delayed until he cheers up. Proto provides a lot of criticism on chapters so I do not feel comfortable publishing chapters before he looks over them.**

**I will continue only updating Saturdays, though.**

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_Prologue VIII_

June 30, 1987

Waver had been back with his mother for about a week now. Finals had concluded easily; with all the studying he'd done, he was rather confident he got top scores.

Except Defense Against the Dark Arts. Waver was certain his reaction time and nerves dropped him at least one grade. The poor teacher didn't help; thank goodness he resigned after confronting one of the Boggarts in front of many students, which had transformed into a relatively harmless Cornish Pixie and caused him to go into complete panic while a student dealt with it. It was one of the last Boggarts seen before the infestation mysteriously vanished, too.

He was rather excited for his new booklist to come in, as it'd give him more excuse to avoid sitting in the living room drinking tea with his mother, by her insistence.

The minute Waver's mother had returned from work on the day Waver returned from Scotland, the first thing she had done was pull Waver away from his textbooks as he did his homework. After all, the door no longer locked itself, nor was it lockable at all, really. The way it was _supposed_ to be.

So Waver grouchily sat in the living room as his mother hurriedly prepared tea for them. He didn't want to do this. His mother was the sort to stick her nose in everything Waver actually enjoyed. Waver hated her refusal to acknowledge that knowledge of the world should be known for the sake of knowing it, that skills should be learned for the sake of learning them. She didn't value what knowledge she had outside her profession at all. Knowledge without practical use, to Waver's mother, was useless.

Waver took the tea when it was offered, but he wasn't in the mood to actually drink it.

The annoying part of this new evening routine was that his mother had startlingly little to actually talk about. She dragged him away from his books every evening just to stare at him in silence.

"Have your grades come back yet?" Oh, she talks.

_What a surprise,_ he thought.

"Not yet," Waver replied. "I'd expect them to come around mid-July like Professor McGonagall did."

"Oh." She was quiet again for a while. "Do you like it there? At that weird school?"

"For the most part." He wouldn't lie, there would be no point. There were things about Hogwarts that annoyed him, even if the good outweighed the bad. "I like it more than here, at any rate."

"I suppose that is the answer I expected..." She paused. Waver was fairly certain his tea, still untouched, was cold by the time she tried to make conversation again. "What is it like there?"

Waver tried to explain as best as he could. Being back to living with his mother in the non-magical world for the past week had made a lot of the past year feel surreal at times, where strange things were treated as the normal way things were. Funny how that happened right after he got used to it.

Waver's mother seemed to trust magical society less the more Waver described it. Once he had finished, her choice of descriptors were "unnatural and alien."

"It's odd at first, but once you're accustomed to it, it becomes normal," was all Waver had to say to that.

"Stuff like that doesn't become normal, Waver." She responded, shaking her head. They stared at each other in silence. If Waver's tea wasn't cold before, it definitely was now.

"...Do you feel different now? Than before you left?"

He hadn't been expecting that as a question. "Not particularly. I don't feel as if I've changed at all, beyond knowing things that were only theories to me before."

She continued quietly. "You're not acting differently either. You've always, always treated me exactly like this. Always convinced you had better things to do with your time than me."

Well, yes. Because she was annoying and pushy. He had plenty of better things to do than spend it on not drinking tea and telling her about school. He really didn't know why she didn't understand this. He wasn't about to lie about that, either. "Because as far as I can tell, I do. You annoy me greatly." He tried to make his annoyance as obvious as he could. Maybe that would make her leave him alone.

"I don't want to annoy you." She looked at him blankly. "You were so indifferent when your father died. You shouldn't have been. It's… not a normal reaction."

Why was she talking about this? There was nothing he could do about his father's death. At the time, Waver hadn't really been fully aware what was happening, as he was only six. Now… he viewed the event with ambivalence. The sudden intense illness was unfortunate, but he did not really care about it personally. His only memories of his father, which were quite few in number as he rarely visited, made him seem just like his mother. And what was with her expression? He wasn't entirely sure if she was still paying attention to him, or was just monologuing her frustrations at him.

"Maybe you should be more willing to appreciate learning." Waver snapped in reply. "Maybe you shouldn't try so hard to push this."

"If I didn't drag you out here, I'd never be able to spend time with you at all."

Well, he supposed that wasn't an incorrect assessment. If her goal was only to get him to spend time with her, then forcing him was the only realistic approach since he would just turn her down if she asked nicely. Unless she was willing to accept "sit quietly and read in the same room" as spending time with him. He doubted that.

"Could you at least make an effort to reach out to me?" she asked.

Why was she sitting closer to him now? This wasn't comfortable. He slowly tried to put some distance between them, though she didn't let it work, grabbing his shoulders as he tried to back away.

"Please."

Waver said nothing. He wanted to run into his room and hold his door shut until she gave up. The door swung toward the hall, so he would have to consistently pull to keep it closed.

Anything to get out of this awkward conversation.

"Don't disappear into that world."

She was hugging him. Crying- sobbing- into his shoulder, her black hair, perfectly straight as his own, tickling his nose.

He wouldn't be able to make his escape, regardless of what he did. So he just sat there, back straight, staring blankly ahead.

She didn't move the remainder of that night, falling asleep with tears staining her cheeks.

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**Waver's reaction to his parents dying in canon (selling all their stuff so he could run off and join the magical society of sociopaths that his mother hated) wasn't exactly the image of respect. It's like he just didn't care about their memory at all. We're not really told what their relationship was like beyond that, or much of anything about his parents personalities. I tried to come up with something. Maybe he's being too unsympathetic? I dunno. **

**Review replies:**

**gabe. d. clark. 1997: HP does have it's fair share of contrived conflict (oh hello OotP how are you today?), but I still feel it stretches my disbelief a bit too much.**

**PasiveNox: Thank you.**

**Mrcrazyman94: Well, we've got around 12 years of in universe time total in this fic, so he has plenty of time to grow up from his "all about me" attitude...**

**-Glace**


	9. Prologue IX

**Thank you to Silver and Proto for Proofreading. I own nothing.**

**Also, reminder because someone did not get the message: LOG IN TO REVIEW. I will not be providing a response to any guest reviews posted and will delete them if I see them.**

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_Prologue IX_

August 1, 1987

When Waver's booklist came in, his mother had insisted on him leading her to wherever the magical bookstore was on a day she had off.

His explanation that it was in London did not sit well with her, nor that he hadn't known where in London it was until he checked the envelope which had held the booklist again, as it seemed an additional note had been enclosed with directional details. Reaching London would require a great deal of tightly scheduled public transport.

As a result, Waver was now squeezed into a seat on a bus with his mother that had stops in the nearest town and London as it pulled into the city.

Waver was fairly confident they were going to get lost attempting to navigate as they departed. And that he'd exhaust himself from walking so much.

They had to ask patrolling policemen for directions multiple times before they finally found the street indicated in the note.

"The note lied, there's no run-down taverns here," Waver's mother stated as she surveyed the street.

"It's there… the note did say you wouldn't notice it or be able to enter it without my help." Why did he have to bring her if she was just going to act like this? Dragging her toward what she likely saw as empty space, Waver swung open the door and marched her through.

The pub was a lot busier than the outward appearance would suggest. And if it had any effect, it made Waver's mother even more suspicious. "This is what greets you at the entrance? A pub frequented by that sort?" she hissed in Waver's ear as they walked through the establishment to the back entrance.

"Maybe you should judge people by their looks less," Waver hissed back as they headed out to the back alley. He quickly followed the direction on how to get past the brick wall that greeted them, before promptly marching toward Flourish and Blotts.

Waver doubted the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook would be any more engaging than the last one (from what he'd heard, competent teachers for the subject were becoming hard to come by as seemingly no one could hold the position for an extended periods of time). The reaction of his mother to the titles of the books she saw was simply to scoff at how ridiculous some of them sounded. Waver couldn't help but agree with her to some degree, some of the titles did sound very silly, particularly the fiction. While he had been in Hogwarts, he had tried looking for mystery novels written by wizards, but had come up quite empty-handed. Most of the fiction he'd read had, frankly, made little sense narratively. Magic was too powerful for the conclusions to make any sense in the few he had found, he could think of several other possibilities for an outcome that still could logically add up based on what he knew of magic.

Waver and his mother barely looked at each other as they left the shop and went to restock on basic potion supplies. It was obvious that she was regretting coming, even if, without an escort, she lacked much choice.

"None of these things make sense," Waver's mother huffed as she looked over the wares in the shop. "Some aren't even magical. What's magical about a caterpillar?"

"The caterpillar by itself isn't magical, but it can be used as a conduit for it." Waver replied absently. "It's less a reactant, and more a catalyst."

"Then wouldn't anything non-magical work? Why a caterpillar specifically?"

"Caterpillars completely change over their lives. The concept of the potential to become something else is what makes it the catalyst, in this regard."

The cashier in the shop seemed amused by the conversation as Waver was paying for the supplies. "It's something most muggles feel, boy. Don't get too frustrated that she's no different," he was saying cheerfully.

Waver's mother seemed beyond insulted by this, despite the man's lighthearted tone. Her demands to know what she was being called were cut off as Waver hurriedly finished counting the coins and dragged her out of the shop before she could embarrass him further before quietly explaining to her that he hadn't meant to insult her and was simply pointing out that she wasn't magical.

Returning to their hometown after was a silent affair, Waver would have read his books if revealing them in front of all these non-magical people wasn't a potential secrecy break. Waver dearly hoped she wouldn't start crying again when they made it. The first time had been awkward enough.

"How do you put up with all that?" Waver's mother demanded as he made a beeline for his room. "None of it is normal."

"You get used to it." Waver gave the simplest explanation he could. "I'm going to go read these, don't bother me."

She grabbed his shoulder. "You can do that later."

"I am doing it now." Waver hissed, shaking her off. "I'm not going to fall behind, mother." He marched into his room and began to hold the door closed, hoping she'd eventually give up if he did so long enough.

He really wished it would continue to just lock itself. Studying in peace had been so much easier then.

* * *

**I am so sorry this took so long. Like I said in the previous chapter's updated AN, Proto is _very_ thorough with criticism and I'd rather it be all corrected before I publish the chapter, and he was feeling quite miserable and unmotivated. Cheering him up was a greater priority than forcing him to beta immediately. Combined with an irl issue making me miserable myself, it just wasn't the formula for a swift update.**

**Review replies:**

**VGBlackwing: Yeah, Waver is being pretty mean to her and deserves being yelled at for it. I felt pretty bad for her while I was writing it, even though I was the one who shoved her into that situation to begin with. **

**Sorry nameless mother character. You deserve better than what I'm giving you.**

**-Glace**


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